Once upon a time in a faraway land under the sea, there was a young merman who had the most beautiful voice on sea or land. He was loved by no one, and loved nothing except his voice – sound travels faster in water than air, and the kingdom under the sea was seeped with his melodies. Yet, deep down in his soul, he knew that there was more to the world than his small life under the sea, he wanted to see the sun.

"The world above is a dangerous place," warned his guardian. She was a severe mermaid with an all black tail with no adornments- not even a sole oyster shell shone on her scales.

"How would you know? Have you ever been to the surface?" he asked defensively, though secretly he was trying to get information.

"Humans are different, Erik. They are not like us." No one knows why the merman's name was Erik, other than that it sounded good and strong and appropriate.

Even though he was forbidden from rising to the suface, he would go there anyway. In the evening, when his guardian and her daughter fell asleep, Erik would swim to a rock 10 feet away from the shore and stare at the large stone castle by the sea. He would bring his sea-violin and after carefully making sure no one could see him, he would play his music. Oh! How much more beautiful it sounded on the surface! Sometimes, when he was overcome with emotion, he would sing his soul's wishes and his sadness that he would never see the sun, even if he had travelled beyond his known world.

Meanwhile, in the castle, Princess Christine always wondered why she heard such beautiful music in her dreams. She would comb the shore the next morning to see if the mysterious serenade was real, only to find nothing. The music always felt so tangible, yet ethereal, but for so long she thought it was a dream that one evening, half-awake and half-dazed, she was amazed to find she could still her the haunting sounds of the string instrument. She pinched herself, but much to her surprise, it was a startling reality. She needed to investigate.

The next evening, after her ladies-in-waiting had fallen asleep, she quietly snuck out the window and onto the coast. As her toes sunk into the sand and her hair was swept back by the sea-breeze, she knew something magical was going to take place.

She waited hours for the long-suffering Scandanavian summer sun to lay its fitful head and stared into the dark waters. An eternity seemed to pass, but she stayed. Just as she was beginning to sink into the sand, her head resting on her hiding place, she heard the music.

It was more beautiful in person! Without thinking, she lifted her own head and began to sing.

Erik was taken aback. In all his nights of coming to the surface he had never heard anything like this. The sound was clear and pure- the embodiment of sunlight! He played with more intensity, trying to match her. Out of the darkness, he could see a young woman walk towards him. Her could see her fair, beautiful face in the moonlight, surrounded by cascading brown curls. She stepped into the water, with each step matching their heartbeats – until he saw the brief look of horror on her face. He was not like her. In shame, he dove back into the comforting arms of the sea.

The siren, for that was what Christine had decided to call it, was the most unusual creature she had ever seen. 'How could a creature that makes such beautiful music be so hideous?' She could still see its green skin, its irridecnt scales glimmering in the moonlight, its matted black hair, its flat soulless eyes –and its mouth. It was as if it was gasping for air rather than singing. She was puzzled.

'Another mystery for another day.' She thought. She was about to head inside when the wind swept her red scarf from underneath her.

'Wait, come back!' she shouted uselessly. She sprinted after the cloth dancing through the air, 'It was my mother's!'

She chased it down the dunes, but it was getting further out of sight. It would soon be lost forever. As she climbed the top of the largest dune, she could see a man in the distance, holding her scarf up high like a banner. She rushed down the dune, only to fall over and slide into the sand.

"Do you need any assistance, Miss?" he asked. He was golden, from his skin to his hair. Gallantly, he offered his hand, she accepted.

"Thank you," she replied sheepishly, "For saving my scarf."

He laughed, "It was my pleasure." Their fingers briefly touched as he handed her back the red fabric. It was only as their eyes met that they recognized each other.

"Your Highness!" he bowed. "Forgive my impertanence." Christine could see that the man in front of her was Raoul, her former childhood friend, now a rising star in her father's navy. She cursed society for rearing its ugly head again.

"Rise, good sir, there is no need for such formality. You are among a friend." She smiled.

"It has been a long time," He mumbled.

"Too long." She agreed. "Would you do me the favor of accompanying me on my birthday cruise tomorrow?"

"But, my Lady, that cruise is your coming-of-age ceremony! Only members of the court are invited!"

"But, it is my party, and you are my guest." He was still to astonished to respond.

"I suppose I will see you there."